


Rude, Professor Litefoot

by jossujb



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (Big Finish Audio), Jago & Litefoot (Big Finish Audio)
Genre: Banter, Flirting, Jago is neck deep in trouble, Litefoot is zero helpful, M/M, Supernatural Elements, These Idiots, Translation, Victorian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-10 09:37:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11688939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jossujb/pseuds/jossujb
Summary: Mr. Jago could well use his friend's help and advice, but Professor Litefoot is anything but helpful.





	Rude, Professor Litefoot

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Asiatonta, professori Litefoot](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/312570) by jossujb. 



> This was actually written for a writing challenge called 12+ virkettä in Finnish. In that one you had 25 words you had use in in 25 sentences in order to make a one coherent story (plus one extra, without a word). So this was 26 sentences long in Finnish, but I took some liberties in translation. I have very limited skills in English anyway, I couldn't translate anything if I had to keep up with the strict rules I use in my original writing.
> 
> My only beta is online grammar check, so bare with me.

Even thought Professor Litefoot was a physician by profession admittedly, as a pathologist, he was degree or two more awkward with a live patient than beside a senseless body without a will. It didn't help the matter, that the said patient in this case was his beloved friend Henry Gordon Jago. The Professor had always found it difficult to concern him in a strictly professional manner. Especially now that Jago, in his own words, had this time around, during these few afternoon hours, turned entirely invisible. Or so he told he had begun to turn transparent blue in the morning, but disappeared entirely from sight sometime before the afternoon tea. The effect upon Mr. Jago's self-esteem was immense, as what kind of Master of the Ceremonies is one, that can't even be seen by the audience?

”There, there, Henry. Mrs. Hudson has made us coffee. It will lift your spirit if you eat a little and compose yourself”, said Litefoot and homed in on next to his friend by touch. A particularly sharp notion was, that even Jago's clothes, including the knitted rose patterned vest made by his aunt Maude, had turned invisible. He certainly wasn't passing along all naked. Litefoot felt a little sting in his conscience. He would have found it genuinely entertaining if Jago had sat on his coffee table exactly as nude as a recently hatched cutworm.

Jago probably sensed the zest in the Professor's thoughts. Including all additional tones inappropriate for a doctor, as he was huffing in that way that spoke of condemnation.

”What a queer fellow you are. The dawning of stroking sun shines through me like though a sieve, and you devil just smirk”, said Jago.

”Well, I can't do anything about miracles either, now can I? You can't claim this isn't in some minor way rather funny”, Litefoot defended himself, but granted, somewhat feebly and jesting.

”My career is in the shingles! Is there even going to be anything to fill my coffin once I die out of the tediousness of the situation?” Jago hollered. Guess he compensated the lack of facial expressions with fierce rough vocals.

”You cannot die out of boredom, my dear fellow, and I doubt transparentism to be a lethal either”, Litefoot reassured him and squeezed Jago from all sides of his beer-grown belly. It was exactly as meaty as before. Even the scratches in Jago's hands felt hard and elevated. The scar, the one which history Litefoot had never really asked, climbed up the writs and under the sleeve. It was still familiar, though, even if invisible. Like an engraving him, like the engravings in all of us; or our initials written inside of the ring band, never meant to be seen.

Contradictory emotions poured out of Mr. Jago so you could almost feel them. He asked:

”Would you still like me, even if I stayed this imperceptible forever?”

Litefoot considered flattering him by saying something like, he would let a jewel like him out of his sight. But it wouldn't have been exactly his style.

”You can dress up in white bedsheets and thus be seen again!” chipped Litefoot cheerfully.

”I say, _how dare you._ Are you suggesting I should become a ghastly ghost? That is absolutely the rudest suggestion I've ever heard coming out of our mouth, Professor”, said Jago with such impose, that it was certainly visible even the man himself wasn't.

”Or we could put a jingle bell on a ribbon and tie that around your neck. Mrs. Hudson then wouldn't get frightened, even if you snuck into the pantry during the night”, Litefoot taunted in spite of the possibility, that Mr. Jago could well turn even more nonexistent if bullied too much.

”That wasn't in any way more appropriate suggestion compared to the last. What a ferryman of a flat horizon you think you are? Such seeping slander! You've never been much help in any matters of distress, _ever_ ”, damned Jago, and the Professor just couldn't help, despite all the mischief, but kiss him right the middle of his upset, and at least for the time being, very much invisible cheek.

 

**FIN**

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
